


You Are Not Alone

by Juh_Nunes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Friendship, Getting Together, Growth and Healing, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Inspired by Music, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, Post-War, Pre-Slash, Self-Esteem Issues, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-05-28 22:41:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15059381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Juh_Nunes/pseuds/Juh_Nunes
Summary: Draco dreaded going back to Hogwarts after the war. He was sure this would be his worst year yet: the school hated him, the Slytherins have abandoned him, and his dorm was overrun with Gyffindors. There was no way anything good could come out of this mess, right?





	You Are Not Alone

**Author's Note:**

> I need to thank the best beta in the world, [TDCat](https://tdcatsblog.tumblr.com/), for being so patient with me while I was almost having a nervous break down over this fic. The same goes to [lettersbyelise](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lettersbyelise/pseuds/lettersbyelise), who helped me think this over, and GreiceMK who kept my paranoia in check. And of course thank you to the amazing mods who were so lovely and helpful. You all rock!
> 
> Inspired by Sorry - Halsey

The war was over and Draco was free. Things could be worse than they were: he and his mother could be in prison. Instead they had a second chance, and that was not something everyone had — most of the people he knew were either dead or in Azkaban — Draco knew all that, but still, he was having a hard time accepting his new reality.

Escaping imprisonment was bittersweet. Draco thought he and his mother would be locked away forever and he was relieved by the outcome of his trial, but his father was in Azkaban, and they had no idea if they would ever see each other again.

Even though the Wizengamot had decided that he and his mother had been acting under duress, and that they had both contributed to Potter’s victory in the end, the public’s opinion was a completely different matter.

The only time Draco dared venture outside Malfoy Manor since the trials had been a complete disaster, and his mother was being shunned by the people they used to think of as friends. Apparently all the families who agreed with the Dark Lord but conveniently decided to claim neutrality during the war thought they were better than the Malfoys now. His mother was not happy, but Draco thought it was good riddance.

He had been surprised when he received a letter from Hogwarts. They knew from the papers that the school was ready for a new term, and that new Headmistress McGonagall was sending letters to invite back the students who were supposed to finish school the year before, but Draco had never imagined he would be one of those students. If he were to be honest, he thought he shouldn’t be.

Actually he would rather not be. But Narcissa was adamant that they should grab all the chances they got, and that going back to Hogwarts to take his N.E.W.T.s just like all the other students was the best for him.

Draco knew he would need to have flawless grades to be accepted into the potions fellowship he wanted. And even with the best grades, there was still a chance they would reject him based on his past. So he had to admit going to school for one more term wouldn’t hurt. Still, he dreaded what that would entail.

And now, here he was. Hogwarts did not look right; the final battle had left marks everywhere, from dead patches of grass to missing suits of armour in the hallways. Draco knew it could be worse, way worse, but he didn’t want to think about it.

McGonagall had made some changes to accommodate the students that should’ve finished school already. She called them eighth years and had them sharing a new common room in the west wing. They were supposed to be completely parted from their previous houses, wouldn’t be able to be part of the Quidditch teams — there were a lot of complaints at that — and would be rooming with a student from a different previous house.

Draco was not sure how he felt about that.

He was glad he wouldn’t be rooming with one of the Slytherins. They sat together in the Great Hall, on the far end of the newly added eighth-year table, looking like a unit, and Draco felt like he didn’t belong. He had failed them. He had pushed them away when they tried to help, disappeared when he was supposed to lead them, and now Vince was dead. Draco didn’t have a place there.

But he couldn’t imagine rooming with someone from the other houses either. How would he be able to share a room with one of the people he helped the Carrows torture? Or Weasley, whom he had almost killed not long ago? With his luck, he would end up sharing a room with someone who hated him even more than any of the Slytherins, or worse, he would end up in a room with Potter.

There was no place at Hogwarts for Draco, and it was all his own fault.

Draco sat alone at the other end of the table. Pansy and Blaise were whispering something to each other and looking at him, so he looked away, only to find Potter’s green eyes. Potter was frowning, and when he saw Draco looking at him he pointed to the Slytherins with his head and raised his eyebrows in a clear question; Draco shook his head and looked down at his plate.

Potter had been doing that since Draco’s trial. Whenever they saw each other he would nod or acknowledge Draco in some other way, and Draco had no idea what to think or how he was supposed to react, but he found it annoying. It was as if Potter was ignoring everything they were supposed to be. They were not friends, they were not acquaintances. They were enemies, and they were supposed to act as such.

Draco followed the other eighth years and Flitwick to their new common room after the feast, dreading whatever he would find there. He hoped his roommate wouldn’t be Potter, _anyone_ but Potter.

He dragged his feet and lagged behind, in no hurry to be locked in a room with any of these people. Pansy and Blaise were a few steps ahead, whispering and looking at him again. They were probably wondering what Draco was doing there; he wondered the same.

The entrance to their new common room was a normal-looking door that only opened when pushed on the right place. Draco heard Longbottom saying something about not needing to remember passwords, but no one paid him any attention. Everybody was looking around the room.

The furniture looked like it had been taken from different parts of the castle. Draco recognized a couple of Slytherin’s armchairs and side tables, and they were combined with a mismatch of sofas and tables that looked like they came from the other houses, some in sickening yellow, others screaming red. Everything surrounded a huge fireplace.

It was obvious the staff intended for the common room to be inviting for all of them, but for Draco it looked like an explosion of colours and shapes that didn’t go well together.

The interest in their new common room didn’t last long. As soon as one of the Patil twins found the room assignments on the bulletin board, everyone converged on it. Even though he was not in a hurry to find out who his roommate was going to be, Draco couldn’t quell his curiosity for too long, and approached the board behind everyone else.

“I can’t believe it! How could she do this to us?” Weasley whispered loudly, right in front of Draco, his head obstructing Draco's view of the bulletin board.

“She is doing her best, Ron,” Granger murmured. “The idea is that the rest of the school will see how we can all live together peacefully disregarding house prejudice and—”

“Yeah, yeah, interhouse cooperation, interhouse friendship, we were there too,” Weasley grunted with a dismissive hand wave. “But after everything we’ve been through, we were promised a good year! You can’t possibly think Harry will have a good year having to share a room with that prick.”

It _had_ to be Draco they were talking about, right? Who else would Weasley consider to be such an offensive choice as Potter’s roommate? It had to be Draco. And this term was going to be just as bad as he had feared.

“It’s okay, Ron, I don’t mind,” Potter murmured. But Draco was sure he had to be lying.

“I mind! You’ll have to share a room with that prat! I’d rather share with the giant squid than him,” Weasley’s voice was getting louder. Granger caught his arm and started to pull him away from the board.

“I’m sure the giant squid wouldn’t mind sharing with you either, but I would rather sleep somewhere dry,” Potter snorted. “It’s alright, Ron, I can deal with it. To be honest, I thought you’d be more annoyed about _your_ roommate.”

Weasley shrugged, and the three of them left for the dorm rooms, allowing Draco to see the assignments.

He was wrong. His roommate was not Potter, Potter was with Smith. Draco was Weasley’s roommate, and he had no idea how he felt about it.

 _Confused,_ Draco decided after staring at the words on the board for longer than necessary. Weasley had acted as if Smith were the worse option possible. And there he was sharing a room with a Death Eater, while his girlfriend would be sharing a room with Pansy, who had tried to sell their best friend to the Dark Lord. Draco was definitely confused.

 _That couldn’t be right,_ he thought, while walking towards his room. He must have heard something wrong.

The door to his new dorm was half open. Weasley was inside, rummaging through his trunk. He raised his head and muttered something when Draco opened the door.

Yeah, Draco had clearly understood something wrong when he heard them talking.

“Poor Weasley, being forced to share a room with a bad Slytherin Death Eater,” Draco mocked, kicking his own trunk open. Deep down he knew he was being ridiculous. He had no right to say anything. He shouldn’t even be there, but it was so much easier to go back to his old self than to say something decent.

“Don’t flatter yourself, I’ve met puppies named Fluffy that are scarier than you. I don’t care about rooming with you, that’s not the problem,” Weasley said, rolling his eyes.

“What’s the problem then?”

“It’s Harry— It’s none of your business!” Weasley grunted.

“Nevermind.” Draco shook his head and started to sort the things in his trunk. What the hell was he thinking asking Weasley what’s the problem? That he would share a room with Weasley and they would start confiding in each other? That they could be civil or something? It was ridiculous. Draco was being ridiculous and behaving erratically.

“I— I’m sorry for that,” Weasley sighed, making Draco turn back to him. “I didn’t mean it.”

“You can’t do that,” Draco interrupted him abruptly. “We’ve been fighting since we were eleven, you can’t just say that! We are supposed to hate each other!”

“Well, I don’t care for what we are supposed to do,” Weasley shrugged. “It really has nothing to do with you, you know? I’d love to go back to hating you, because it would mean that everything is back to normal, that I didn't have to deal with worse people, that you are the big enemy. But I can't, nothing will ever be the same. I was at you trial, I know more about you than I ever wanted to, and I don't think I can hate you anymore.”

Draco’s first impulse was to say something offensive and start a fight, maybe they could both throw a couple of punches and go back to familiar ground. But Weasley was right. Draco couldn’t hate Weasley anymore either. Of course in Draco’s case, he had sort of figured out he had been wrong all along. He nodded.

“So,” Weasley threw himself on his bed, “the problem is that I’m not rooming with Harry, and well…” Weasley sighed.

“I see,” Draco said, sitting on his own bed and observing Weasley, who was biting his lips and whose leg hadn’t stopped moving since he sat down.

“I’d rather McGonagall had allowed us to just go back to our old dorm rooms, and everything be back to normal. This is weird.”

“It is,” Draco sighed. “For what it’s worth, I really regret most of the things I did to you in the past. And I didn’t want you to almost die because of me.”

“It’s alright,” Weasley said with a dismissive hand wave. “I guess we can make this work, be civil and all that.”

Draco nodded. He wanted it to work. He wanted things to be better. And if he were to be honest, being civil seemed less demanding than fighting.

Weasley nodded too, and went back to unpacking quickly before leaving for the common room, leaving Draco alone with his thoughts.

Civil. They could be civil. He had never imagined himself sitting down with Weasley and deciding to be civil. But after everything that had happened, they could do that.

Weasley hadn’t come back to the dorm room before Draco went to sleep, and he was not awake yet when Draco left the next morning.

Breakfast was not pleasant. While Weasley seemed convinced he and Draco could be civil to each other, the rest of the school didn’t share the sentiment. From the moment he set foot outside his dorm room to the moment he sat down in class, he was subjected to vile insinuations and disdainful looks.

The impulse to respond was strong, but he knew that would only justify and encourage them, so he did his best to keep his head down whenever he left his dorm.

 

* * *

 

Draco quickly fell into a routine during the first weeks of term. Everyday, regardless of how much sleep he actually got, he would wake up earlier than Weasley and go to the Great Hall to have breakfast while most of the school was still waking up. He would keep his head down during the day, and go back to the dorm room whenever he could. No one talked to him, and he was grateful for that.

The only problem with Draco’s routine was Potter.

At first he was not too bothered. Potter was there after their first day of classes. He and Weasley were talking and listening to music on a weird Muggle contraption, and then Granger showed up and they left.

Draco took a look around him and sighed.

Weasley’s side of the room was an orange explosion. His bed was covered with Chudley Cannons bedding; the wall was full of Chudley Cannons posters; his desk was full of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes bags that were also orange; and his bedside table had a couple of framed pictures of his family, Potter, and Granger.

Draco had never seem so much orange in his life, but he would rather stay there than go to the common room where people would surely antagonize him. So, he picked up his coursework books, and started to study.

The next day Potter was there again, this time reading a Muggle magazine while Weasley played with something from his brother’s shop. Just like the day before, Granger showed up after a while and they all left.

After a week of going back to his dorm only to find Potter and Weasley there, Draco started to get annoyed.

“Why are you always in here? Why don’t you go spend time in Potter’s room for a change?” he snapped.

“Because Smith is a prat,” Weasley said, without even raising his head from the chess game they were playing. Potter nodded and Draco heard him chuckle when Draco turned his back on them and grunted.

What the hell did that mean? Were they implying that Draco wasn’t a prat? Draco had gone out of his way to annoy them for years, and now they were saying that Smith was more of a nuisance than Draco? He was not sure if he was supposed to feel offended or flattered.

The next day when Draco got back to the dorm room Potter was shoeless on Weasley’s bed doing his homework, but Weasley was nowhere to be seen.

Potter nodded when Draco entered the room then turned back to his notes. He was frowning and chewing his quill, there was a smudge of black ink in the corner of his mouth, and he had a green sock on one foot and a red on the other. Draco felt a strong urge to insult Potter or something, but he knew it would be a stupid thing to do, so he did his best to keep his mouth shut.

“Why are you here again?” Draco asked after a few seconds of awkwardness. Apparently he would never be able to keep his mouth shut near Potter. “Weasley isn’t even here now!”

“I don’t know,” Potter said without lifting his head. “I guess I miss the orangeness.”

“That’s not a word,” Draco grunted, rolling his eyes.

“Hermione says that words are created everyday out of necessity,” Potter smirked. Draco’s urge to insult Potter grew into a strong desire to punch him.

“Whatever,” Draco said, looking away from Potter. It was ridiculous. The smallest thing from Potter always had managed to make his ears ring and his heart race. “What do you mean by ‘miss the orangeness?’”

Potter raised his head and looked around pointedly. Of course he was right; the room looked like one of the Weasleys’ Wheezes had exploded in an orange haze.

“You can always steal Weasley’s decor,” Draco snorted.

“And deprive you of all this glorious orangeness? I could never!” Potter said in a mocking tone, raising a hand to his chest with an outraged expression.

Draco was about to answer when Weasley and Granger opened the door. Instead of leaving like they always did, Granger and Weasley entered the room and closed the door.

The four of them together was a little too much for Draco. He couldn’t trust himself to keep his mouth shut, so he entered the bathroom without saying a word. He expected them to leave soon, since there was no way they would stay there instead of going to the common room, right?

It was a ridiculous situation. Draco didn’t want to be in the dorm with them. It was too awkward with their shared past. But the longer he stayed inside the bathroom the weirder it would get when he finally returned.

When a few minutes passed and he didn’t hear the door closing, he decided that he needed to know what was happening in the room.

Draco had to admit the only eavesdropping spell he knew was not at all as good as the Weasleys’ Wheezes Extendable Ears, but it would have to do.

“— and honestly, Hermione, I just don’t want to be around them.” Draco heard Potter’s voice. He sounded annoyed.

“But if we don’t go out there and show them that we are still the same people, things won’t change,” Granger said.

“I can’t stand the way people look at us!” Potter grunted. “I’m pretty sure Smith is selling tickets to our dorm room —”

“I told you he is the worst roommate ever.” Weasley interrupted him.

“I feel like I’m in a zoo!” Potter continued, as if Weasley hadn’t interrupted. “And then there is the people who act like the war never happened, and I can’t stand them either.”

“Okay, Harry,” Granger sighed, and Draco heard a chair scraping the floor.

Apparently Draco was not the only one avoiding other people. He could understand Potter better than he ever thought he would. Being around other people made both of them feel on display and judged. Draco only wished Potter, Weasley, and Granger would find somewhere else to hide soon.

As there was nothing else he could do for now, Draco reversed the spell and went back to the room, no one said anything. Weasley was with Potter on his bed and Granger was at Weasley’s desk, they were all doing homework. Draco sat at his desk and did the same.

Instead of going to his own dorm after dinner, Potter came back with Weasley, and they shared the bed.

Draco had trouble sleeping. How could he not, when Potter was right there, sleeping with Weasley, as if they did that every day. _Maybe they did,_ Draco thought, as he rolled on bed in the wee hours of the morning.

He was pretty sure Weasley was dating Granger, at least that was what the gossip column of every magazine said. But the magazines had been wrong about Potter’s life before. In fact, Draco had fed the _Daily Prophet_ wrong information about Potter’s life more than once, and he knew they never bothered to fact-check. And really, with the three of them, who could tell? They were always together, and Draco had never seen any displays of affection between Granger and Weasley.

Draco rolled over and punched his pillow with a little more force than he intended. Maybe everybody had it wrong, and Potter was the one dating Weasley.

If that were it, they could have at least closed the curtains. Draco sighed deeply, watching Potter and Weasley attentively from his bed, with his own curtains wide open.

 

* * *

 

Lucky for Draco, the next day was Saturday, or he wouldn’t have been able to pay any attention in classes.

He had barely slept, too busy paying attention to Potter and every little sound that came from the other bed, instead of placing a Silencing Charm, like he usually did — which was a big mistake, because Weasley snored loudly the whole night, and Draco had no idea how Potter had slept so well.

When Draco opened his eyes the first thing he saw was Potter on Weasley’s bed, reading some sort of colourful magazine. Weasley was not there.

“Won’t you ever leave?” Draco asked hoarsely.

“Morning to you too, Malfoy,” Potter snorted.

“What is that?” Draco yawned, seriously considering turning over and going back to sleep.

“Comic book,” Potter said, raising the cover of the magazine a little.  Draco could see a person dressed in red and blue. “Dean brought some of his brother’s.”

“Like Martin Miggs?” Draco asked, confused, as he got out of bed. “Those are for kids learning how to read, Potter.”

“Martin Miggs comics are highly prejudiced and not a good depiction of Muggles,” Potter said, as if he were reciting something from memory.

“Let me guess, that’s what Granger says?”

“Yeah, but I actually agree with her, you know?” Potter put the comic book down and looked at Draco. “Ron had some Martin Miggs, I read them, and they are incredibly stupid.”

“What is that one about?” Draco asked, pointing to the comic book Potter was reading.

“Spider-Man,” Potter grinned. “It’s a guy that lives with his aunt because his parents died and one day he is bitten by a spider and starts to get spider-like powers and fights bad people.”

“So,” Draco said, walking to the bathroom, “it’s basically you?” he asked, making Potter stare at him with his mouth open.

Draco didn’t wait for him to answer. He entered the bathroom to take a shower. That would make him wake up properly, and he could only hope that if he were properly awake he would stop having weird conversations with Potter.

Granger and Weasley were there when Draco got out of the bathroom. They fidgeted with Weasley’s weird music contraption while Potter ate toast on the bed.

Potter had bread crumbs on the corner of his mouth that he wiped with his hand, covering Weasley’s bed and the floor with crumbs. Draco felt a strong urge to yell at him, but instead he left the room.

On his way to breakfast, Draco was not sure what annoyed him more: Potter eating in bed like a peasant and making a mess in his dorm room, or that Draco had no one to bring him toast.

 

* * *

 

Draco seriously considered hiding after breakfast, but anywhere he went people looked at him like he was something nasty. When a kid — so small Draco was afraid he might step on her — looked at him and ran away from the library, he gave up.

He went back to the dorm room with all the books on advanced potions Madam Pince allowed him to take. At least in his dorm no one would ran away from him or look at him as if he were dirt on the floor.

Unsurprisingly, Granger and Potter were still there. They were all laughing when Draco opened the door, and there was music coming from the device on Weasley’s desk. Draco felt like an intruder.

Granger was sitting in the corner of Weasley’s bed reading, and Weasley and Potter were playing chess with the board placed precariously between them on the mattress. Potter was shoeless again, one of his socks was yellow, the other pink. Draco had no idea why that annoyed him so much.

He dropped the books on his desk and sighed. He had a lot to study. Slughorn’s classes wouldn’t be nearly enough for him to get the fellowship. Draco caught Granger’s eye when he was about to sit down.

While he and Weasley had had a conversation and decided to be civil, and Potter acted as if he and Draco were even since the end of the war, Draco and Granger had never addressed their past. He still felt tension between them whenever she was there. Draco supposed the right thing to do was to apologise, but he had no idea how.

“We can turn off the music if you want,” Granger said.

“I don’t mind,” Draco said and was surprised to realise he really didn’t.

“What are you studying?” Granger asked, crooking her head trying to read the titles of the books.

“Ingredients that retard potions’ effects and their application,” Draco answered, opening the book at the top of the pile.

“That’s not in the coursework,” Granger said, raising her eyebrows. “Are you pursuing a fellowship in Potions?”

Draco nodded, and Granger started to talk faster. “Is Slughorn helping you? Teachers are supposed to help if the students are seeking their specialties. Padma is working as Flitwick’s assistant and he wrote her a great recommendation letter already. Sprout did the same for Neville. You should talk to him about it. And if he refuses to help you, you should tell McGonagall, because that’s not right and—”

“Hermione, try breathing,” Weasley snickered.

“Or letting Malfoy answer,” Potter snorted.

“I didn’t ask Slughorn,” Draco said. “I don’t think he’ll want to help me. But Snape put together a program for me back in fifth year, and wrote a recommendation letter…”

“Oh,” Granger swallowed and looked sideways at Weasley and Potter. “I guess a letter from Snape will help you a lot. He was a great Potions Master, but you should still ask Slughorn, you are good at Potions, he can’t refuse to help you.”

“I—yeah, I’ll talk to him,” Draco said hesitantly. Granger nodded and turned back to her book.

And just like that the tension he felt before was gone. Granger tried to help him, she didn’t treat him badly, and she didn’t treat him as if their past were erased. She was polite and civil, which was much better than anybody else outside the dorm room.

Granger and Potter stayed the whole day. They played chess, Weasley and Potter discussed comic books, Potter and Granger fought for control over the music choices — Granger said the Spice Girls were all about girl power, Potter said they were annoying and he’d rather listen to Oasis. They settled on the Beatles after Weasley threatened to turn on the Wizarding Wireless Network,  and Draco caught himself enjoying the company, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

“I wouldn’t hate the WWN so much if they played some Muggle music once in a while, you know,” Granger said, sitting back on the bed. “They are always playing the same stuff over and over again. At least Muggles have more music variety.”

Draco had never heard any of those bands before, but he had to agree the little Muggle music he knew of was better than anything the WWN played.

“Agreed,” Potter said, throwing himself next to her. “I could kill the next person to put on Celestina Warbeck.”

“I’ll let mum know,” Weasley snorted. “But yeah, I like Muggle music way more than what the WWN plays. Maybe we could talk to Lee and suggest a Muggle music show. George told me he’s working for the network now.”

“That would be interesting,” Granger said, looking excited. “But instead of only Muggle music he could talk about Muggle culture as a whole. It would help to educate pure-bloods on how Muggles are just like us. And I bet Muggle-borns would love to be able to keep up with new songs.”

It didn’t feel like she was talking about him, but Granger was probably right. Maybe if he had been more exposed to normal things about Muggles, he wouldn’t have ended up in such a bad situation. Or maybe he would have anyway, who knows.

When the time came to go to bed, Potter left, but Granger didn’t. This time around Weasley closed his curtains, and Draco was pretty sure they used a couple of privacy spells.

Draco had no idea what that meant. The only thing he knew was that the trio’s relationship was a little weird. But for some reason, that night he slept soundly.

 

* * *

 

Draco ended up in a new routine he considered much more unusual than anything he had experienced before. Potter and Granger were in his room more often than not, as Potter’s refusal to be around the rest of the school hadn’t changed.

Granger was a bit overbearing when it came to schoolwork and career prospects, and she had apparently decided to make Draco her new project. Now he had permission to practice in the Potions classroom whenever it was vacant, and Slughorn was helping him with his fellowship applications.

Draco was not sure if he should be thankful for Granger’s help or upset because she took charge of it without asking him first. But he was doing his best to seize the opportunity.

What really disturbed Draco was their sleeping arrangements. Weasley never slept alone anymore. Some nights Granger and Weasley slept together with the curtains closed. Other nights Potter was the one there with the curtains open, and yet other nights, Draco woke up to find Potter and Granger sleeping together, and Weasley was nowhere to be seen.

“Are the three of you together or something?” Draco asked when he couldn’t stand it anymore.

Potter and Weasley were in their pajamas on Weasley’s bed exchanging Quidditch cards, and Granger had just left to gather some breakfast. Draco had to learn how to keep quiet, or he would end up in trouble.

Potter raised his head to look at Draco and frowned while Weasley coughed loudly and hid his face in his hands. Draco was not sure, but he seemed to be laughing.

“No, Malfoy, the three of us are not together,” Potter answered, elbowing Weasley, who was clearly laughing now.

Weasley didn’t stop laughing until Granger came back with a handful of toast that she placed on Weasley’s desk, and then as if it were the most normal thing in the world, she gave Draco some.

“Why are you laughing?” Granger asked, sitting with them to eat.

“Malfoy asked if the three of us are together,” Weasley said, breathing deeply to force himself to stop laughing.

Granger laughed a little too. The only one who was not amused by Draco’s question was Potter, who still frowned.

“No one is observing room assignments anymore, you know,” Granger said. “Parvati and Padma were the first to exchange rooms, so Parvati is now sharing with Lavender. They said no one would notice it.”

“Yeah, and Dean is pretty much living in Seamus’s room, Goyle is never there,” Weasley said nodding.

“Parkinson is never in our room either,” Granger said. “I’m pretty sure you are the only Slytherin who hasn’t exchange rooms by now,” she added, raising an eyebrow at Draco.

“You can always exchange rooms with Harry if we annoy you too much,” Weasley snorted.

“You wouldn’t want to do it,” Potter said, speaking for the first time in a while. “Smith is the worst roommate ever, and I bet he wouldn’t be any better with you.”

“I guess I’m good here,” Draco answered, frowning at his toast. If he were an optimist, he would think Potter didn’t want him to go anywhere.

Draco shook his head. Where had that thought came from? Potter not wanting to exchange rooms with him was not something to be optimistic or hopeful about. It was just Potter being a saviour as always, nothing new.

That night, for some reason, both Potter and Granger decided to sleep there.

“Maybe you could cast an Expansion Charm?” Weasley asked Granger when they finally admitted the bed was too small for the three of them to sleep comfortably at the same time.

“I could, but I don’t think the spell is going to hold the whole night. The bed already has some spells to make it warm and to have the ideal cushioning for each person’s needs. I think it’s too much magical interference,” Granger said.

“It’s alright, I can go sleep in my own dorm,” Potter said, and Draco heard the bed creaking.

“Are you sure, mate?” Weasley asked, sounding worried.

“I can cast some Cushioning Charms on the floor for us and —” Granger was saying but Potter interrupted her.

“Yeah, do that, I’ll sleep on the floor and the two of you keep the bed.”

After a couple of spells and some complaints from Weasley and Granger, Potter was on the floor.

 _That was absurd._ Draco thought, punching his pillow and staring at Potter’s feet that were sticking out from under the covers — one in an orange sock, the other in a blue one. There was no need for Potter to sleep in the middle of the floor. What if Draco needed to go to the loo during the night?

And even with some Cushioning Charms, the floor couldn’t possibly be as comfortable as a proper bed. If Potter were so averse to sleeping in his own dorm, maybe Draco could offer his bed. It had to be better than sleeping on the floor, right?

 _Where had that came from?_ Draco asked himself, burying his head in his pillow and looking away from Potter’s mismatched socks. Potter would never accept sharing a bed with Draco, even platonically like he did with Weasley. Potter and Weasley had been friends since their first day of  school. Potter would never be comfortable sleeping with someone who used to be his enemy not so long ago.

Draco didn’t sleep well that night, because he couldn’t stop thinking about Potter sleeping on the floor. In the wee hours of the morning he heard a sob.

“Harry?” Draco heard Granger’s voice coming from the other side of the dark dorm.

“I didn’t want to wake you up,” Potter said, his voice hoarse.

Weasley’s bed creaked and Draco saw a bushy-haired shadow moving from the bed to the floor.

“You know you can wake us up whenever you need,” Granger said in a soothing tone. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“It’s King’s Cross again,” Potter murmured.

Draco had no idea what that meant, but he supposed it was a recurring nightmare. He had some of those too, but they had been happening with less frequency since he came back to school.

“Dumbledore said I could come back or go forwards and I chose to go ahead and die for good.”

“Harry,” Granger sobbed, “you’ve been thinking about it again, haven’t you?”

“I’m supposed to be dead,” Potter murmured. “It just feels like I did everything I had to do, my life was over at that point. So there is no reason for me to be alive anymore. I should have stayed dead.”

“That’s not true,” Granger’s voice was muffled. “I know it feels like that now, but you still have so much to do with your life.”

“What’s the point, everyone will always see me as the Chosen One or some other crappy name they created for me. No one ever sees me as just Harry.”

“We do,” Granger sobbed again, and Draco felt like sobbing too.

He didn’t understand exactly what Potter and Granger were talking about, but he caught the essence of it.

Draco’s mother had told him about that night in the forest, but she said Potter survived the killing curse, that he faked his death so he would have a better chance of surviving. And now Draco found out he hadn’t faked his death after all. Potter literally died to protect everyone.

And now, after everything that happened, Potter felt like his life was over and there was nothing he could do. Draco felt the same, for entirely different reasons, but still, the same. They had more in common than anyone could ever understand.

 

* * *

 

Now that Draco knew the three of them were not together, it was pretty obvious Granger and Weasley were a couple. They disappeared without Potter almost every Saturday. The only problem was that Potter always stayed in the dorm when it happened.

“Didn’t you used to have a girlfriend you could spend some time with and leave me alone?” Draco burst out on one of those occasions. He was trying to read on his chair with his feet up on his bed, and Potter kept making noise while choosing what song to play next.

Draco was sure someday he would pay for his inability to keep his mouth shut.

“Used to,” Potter said, without taking his eyes from the little shiny things that made the Muggle device play music. “We broke up before the war.”

“She didn’t want to get back with you because you are too annoying?” Draco asked, making Potter laugh a little.

“Something like that.” Potter raised his head and looked at Draco. “Didn’t you used to have a girlfriend you could annoy if I disturb you so much?”

“If you are talking about Pansy, we never really dated. She wanted to when we were younger, but half of the time it was like I was kissing my mother, and the other half it was like I was kissing my feet.”

“Ouch,” Potter chuckled.

“Believe me, she feels the same.” Draco snorted. “She actually said to my face that she felt more attraction to a Blast-Ended Skrewt than to me.”

Potter threw himself on Weasley’s bed, laughing hard. “Lovely friendship the two of you have.”

 _Used to have,_ Draco thought. He missed Pansy and his other friends like hell, but there was nothing he could do, so he decided not to think about it.

“But tell me, why didn’t you get back together with little girl Weasley? She isn’t orange enough for you?”

Potter was laughing so hard he was turning red. When he got his breath back, he said:

“We were not the same after the war, it didn’t work well.” He sighed. “We are good friends now.”

They stayed in silence for a while. Draco felt like talking about the war had broken the light mood.

“It’s a bit ridiculous, innit? That sometimes we are having fun and then someone says the wrong thing and everything goes down?” Potter asked, crooking his neck a little to look at Draco.

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Draco said, smiling.

Potter smiled back, and the mood lightened again.

“I like this song, what is it?” Draco asked, making Potter smile even more while he started to talk about his favorite Muggle bands.

 

* * *

 

Draco still avoided the rest of the school. He ate in silence at the eighth-year table and spent classes with his head down. But he couldn’t avoid noticing the other Slytherins were always observing him.

According to Granger they had exchanged rooms with other students and were all sharing dorms now, while Draco was all alone, having to deal with the harassment on his own. That hadn’t changed, as Draco knew it wouldn’t.

He was walking through the eighth-year common room towards his dorm after dinner when he noticed all the Slytherins sitting together in a corner. Something inside Draco wanted to join them, to go back to normal, to be their friend again. He hesitated.

They all looked at him too. A sudden movement caught Draco’s attention. Greg stood up and took half a step towards him, but before he could advance in any way, Pansy pursed her lips and caught Greg’s arm, making him sit back down. Like a spell was broken, Draco looked away from them and kept walking.

He had no idea why Greg had tried to approach him, but Draco was glad Pansy stopped him. They hadn’t talked since the Battle of Hogwarts. Draco was the one who had told Greg and Vince where Potter was. He was the one who had opened the door to the Room of Hidden Things, so what had happened after that was all his fault.

Draco remembered that night as a blur between Vince’s death and thinking Potter was dead, but Draco would never forget holding Greg while the fire tried to reach them, or hiding Greg behind a tapestry so he could try to find his parents in the middle of the chaos.

Greg had the right to hate Draco for leaving him alone and unprotected, or if not for that, for Vince’s death.

Draco took a deep breath before opening the door to his dorm, and the first thing he heard was Potter’s deep laughter filling the room. He made nasal sounds every couple of seconds when he laughed too long. Draco wouldn’t admit it, but he had grown fond of it since he started sharing a room with Weasley. It was comforting.

That was something else Draco was struggling to deal with. He still felt isolated, like he didn’t belong, but whenever Potter was around, Draco felt comforted.

Of course it didn’t mean anything, Draco repeated to himself over and over. It was just because Potter had been so decent to him since the end of the war. Draco still felt like punching Potter from time to time. Nothing had really changed, Potter was still the most annoying person Draco knew, but somehow, Draco’s annoyance had become mixed with fondness.

Draco had trouble sleeping again that night. His mind refused to stop working. Between Greg looking like he wanted to talk to Draco and how confused he was over Potter, he had barely slept when he heard Weasley’s bed creaking.

Potter was sharing Weasley’s bed tonight, but Draco knew he was still sound asleep. Somehow he had learned to recognize the sounds Potter made in his sleep.

Weasley’s snores had stopped though, which was not something that happened often. Weasley sighed, another uncommon occurrence.

Draco knew he should keep quiet and pretend he was asleep, but instead he said: “Are you alright there, Weasley?”

“Nightmare,” Weasley murmured.

Draco should definitely have kept his mouth shut. He had no idea how he was supposed to respond to that. His life was reaching new levels of awkwardness every day.

He managed to keep quiet and, if he were lucky, Weasley would go back to sleep and forget Draco ever said anything.

“Do you think I would look good with a beard?” Weasley asked after a while. From what Draco could see he was lying on his back and looking straight up, so Draco could pretend he had fallen back asleep if he wanted, and Weasley wouldn’t notice. He was under no obligation to answer.

“Maybe,” Draco said. “You can try, if you don’t like it you’d only have to shave.”

“Yeah,” Weasley said, and Draco could see him nodding in the dark. “I think I’ll grow a beard.”

“Good for you, Weasley.” Draco shook his head. How absurd had his life become that he was giving Weasley beauty advice in the middle of the night?

“If you could change anything in your appearance, what would it be?” Weasley asked.

Draco didn’t need to think too much about it. He would make the Dark mark disappear in a heartbeat. But he couldn’t say that. Talking about the Dark mark would make Weasley remember he was a Death Eater and that they were supposed to hate each other. So he said the next thing that annoyed him the most about his appearance.

“My hair, I guess,” Draco sighed. “My father wanted me to have long hair like his. But it annoys me. It gets in my face when I’m distracted, it sticks to my neck when it’s hot, and it’s a nuisance to wash.”

“We would all benefit if you spent less time in the shower,” Weasley said, nodding to the ceiling. “You can cut it, you know? If you don’t like it short you can always let it grow back.”

“I guess I can.” Draco frowned. He could do it. He could do whatever he wanted with his life now. His father had no influence over him anymore. “I’ll do it! I’ll cut my hair!” He stood up. He had to do it before he changed his mind.

“Do you mean now?” Weasley raised his head. “In the middle of the night?”

“No better time than now, right?” Draco said, conjuring a mirror and feeling excited.

Weasley looked at Potter’s sleeping form, as if wondering whether he should wake him up. Then he got up and joined Draco in front of the mirror.

“How will you do it?” Weasley asked, looking at Draco through the mirror.

“A Severing Charm, I guess,” Draco said, running his fingers through his hair. “Or do you think I should conjure scissors for it?”

“I’m not the best person to advise you on this.” Weasley shrugged.

Draco pulled his hair together in a ponytail and raised his wand to it. He was going to cut it off, and no one could tell him not to do it. He was free to live his life however he wanted.

His hair was on the floor a moment later. It was not a stylish cut. It was not good at all, if Draco were to be honest, but he loved it.

“Maybe Hermione can help you with the back in the morning,” Weasley said, his neck crooked, analysing Draco’s hair. “Or maybe Parvati and Lavender would be better for it.”

“Yeah,” Draco said, still looking at himself in the mirror. He looked like someone else, someone new, who had never done the things he did. He wanted to be that person.

“Do you know any spells that would make my beard grow faster?” Weasley asked, looking in the mirror and rubbing the stubble on his chin.

“I know a potion.” Draco shrugged. “I can see if we have the ingredients for it in the students’ cabinet. It would take only a few hours for me to brew it. If you want it, of course.”

“Yeah, I would like that,” Weasley said, nodding to himself while they both went back to their beds.

Draco didn’t know where Weasley’s sudden desire to change his appearance had come from, but he appreciated it.

 

* * *

 

Draco started doubting his own sanity the next morning when he woke up. His hair was uneven, and he looked like he had been subdued by a toddler with a wand.

Potter had been looking at him with his mouth half open since they woke up, and Granger had left seconds after she entered the room, declaring they were going to need reinforcements.

She came back a few minutes later with Patil and Brown. They looked disturbed by what they saw, but unlike Draco would’ve expected, it had little to do with him and everything to do with his poorly cut hair.

After a few more spells and some judicious application of his favourite hair pomade, Patil and Brown declared their job done.

His hair, which had looked messier than Potter’s, now actually looked good. The sides were shorter than the top, and his face looked less pointy without the curtain of hair framing it. It was different from his father’s. It was perfect.

Potter was still looking at him with his mouth half open when Draco left the dorm room to have breakfast.

If he thought the other eighth years gave him strange looks before, it was nothing compared with the way they looked at him now. But Draco didn’t mind. He had never felt better in his life. He felt lighter, like he was finally ready to be his own person, to follow his own path.

Of course that didn’t last long. As soon as the other Slytherins saw his new hair, Draco’s mood sank. Blaise looked at him like he was crazy, and Pansy frowned and shook her head. Somehow the judgement in their eyes was worse than anything he had to endure from the rest of the school.

They were the ones who knew him the best; Greg had had to endure him taking care of his hair for years, Pansy knew exactly what the hair used to mean to Draco. And they clearly judged him for the change.

Maybe that was the problem: he had changed. Somewhere in the middle of their sixth year the Draco they knew so well had vanished. He still held a lot of his old beliefs then, but little by little everything about him had changed. And now he had chopped of his hair with the help of the people he used to consider his enemies.

Draco’s whole life was a mess, and he had no idea how he was supposed to fix it.

He spent the afternoon brewing a hair growth potion for Weasley. Draco was pretty sure he would be able to improve the potion and make the growth more uniform and gradual, so he experimented a little with it.

Brewing had always been a calming activity for Draco. The order and rhythm of it was soothing, so he was able to let go of his concerns and concentrate on his experiments. He was glad he didn’t have to be as careful with his hair as he used to be. It didn’t get in the way as much and would be easier to wash out the fumes when he finished.

By dinner he had a potion he was proud of ready for Weasley to try.

It was not a surprise when Potter and Granger came back to the dorm after dinner. Weasley was excited to try Draco’s potion and see himself with a new beard, Granger looked wary, and Potter was still studying Draco’s hair.

“Is there something wrong, Potter?” Draco asked, losing the endless battle to keep his mouth shut.

“No, nothing wrong.” Potter looked away for a second, and his cheeks were a little darker than normal. “Your hair looks good,” he said, turning back to look at Draco.

Draco was sure he was blushing in a terrible revealing shade of red.

“Er, thank you,” Draco murmured.

He was supposed to say something else, wasn’t he? There was another reason for Granger and Weasley to be looking at him expectantly, right? Draco had no idea. He was pretty sure his brain had melted.

Granger cleared her throat. “Ron said you were going to brew him a hair growing potion.”

“Yes, of course.” Draco tried to shake away the feeling of having his insides turned upside down. “Yes, here,” he said, taking the vial from his pocket and giving it to Weasley. “I experimented a little with it but didn’t mess with the overall formula. It’s just supposed to give you a more even hair coverage than the normal one.”

“Nice!” Weasley said, uncorking the potion and spreading a generous amount on the stubble on his face without hesitation.

It worked exactly as Draco had hoped. Weasley’s beard grew evenly everywhere he spread the potion. It was a couple of fingers long and the same tone as his hair — as if Draco needed more orange in the room.

“Wow!” Granger exclaimed, running her fingers through Weasley’s beard. “You do look good!”

“Yeah!” Weasley admired himself in the mirror Draco had conjured the night before. “Thank you, Malfoy, it looks great!”

There it was again. Draco had no idea how he was supposed to answer that. Luckily, they didn’t seem to expect him to.

Both Potter and Granger decided to spend the night there. Once again, Potter was on the floor, his feet showing from under the covers — one foot in a purple sock, the other in a golden one — looking uncomfortable. Once again Draco wondered if it would be too weird to ask if Potter wanted to share Draco’s bed.

Draco was certain it would. Especially after Potter telling him his hair looked good. What did that mean? Draco had no idea.

Sleeping didn’t come easily when he couldn’t stop rummaging through the thoughts in his head.

When he woke up in the middle of the night a light coming from Weasley’s bed caught his attention. He raised his head a little to find Granger awake, sitting on the bed and reading under the light of her wand.

“Isn’t it a little late to study?” Draco yawned.

“Had trouble sleeping,” Granger said, putting a marker on the page and closing her book. “Light reading always helps.”

“What are you reading?” Draco asked, sitting up.

“It’s a really interesting book,” Granger said in an excited tone. “It was written by a Squib that is a Muggle geneticist now. She applied genetics to magical theory and her findings are fascinating.”

“Right,” Draco nodded. It sounded fascinating, but he had no idea what it meant. “And what is this genetics thing?”

“Okay, let me see how to explain this,” Granger frowned. “Genetics is the study of heredity. Every human inherits characteristics from their parents, whether they’re magical or Muggle. Like all the Weasley kids are redheaded, or how Harry has his mother’s eyes.”

“Or like I have my father’s eyes.”

“Of course it’s a little more complicated than that, but you get the gist.”

Draco nodded. “So how did this person apply genetics to magical theory?”

“Oh, that’s the best part. You see, she believes we have a magical gene. Her explanation is a little more complex, but it basically means that we inherit our magic from our ancestors, which everybody already knows, but it also explains how Muggle-borns came to be!”

“According to my grandparents Muggle-borns are born from Muggles who blackmailed magical folks into giving their magic to the Muggles’ offspring,” Draco said, making Granger purse her lips. “I don’t believe it anymore,” he added quickly.

“But you did,” she shook her head. “Nevermind. So, in basic terms, her theory says that every Muggle-born has a wizard ancestor somewhere, but it also says that the first wizards came from a genetic mutation in Muggles. So today’s Muggle-borns actually have wizarding origins, and the first wizards actually have Muggle origins! Her science is fascinating. You can borrow the book if you want to understand it better.”

“Yeah, I would like that.” The whole thing sounded weird to Draco, but he was open to the idea and its possibilities, which was much better than being a close-minded pure-blood.

“She also studied Squibs, and according to her Squibs have residual magic, which explains why they are not affected by Muggle diseases and have wizarding life spans. If they were completely Muggle like wizards tend to believe, they would die after consuming potions, which obviously doesn’t happen. And she talks about some of the things this residual magic does that makes them different from Muggles and more similar to wizards. Squibs are able to perceive things Muggles can’t, Kneazles tend to have a strong affinity for them, and they are usually very good with magical plants and creatures.”

“But this residual magic is not enough for them to come to Hogwarts anyway,” Draco said, frowning. “I wonder how Filch ended up here.”

“That I don’t know,” Granger giggled lightly. “But I believe Squibs should be accepted at Hogwarts. They could benefit a lot from Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures and maybe even Potions, since Muggle medicine doesn’t work properly for them. Their residual magic would probably be enough for that! And to be honest, it’s really cruel how the wizarding community treats Squibs, sending them away from everything they knew their whole lives.”

“Isn’t that pretty much what happens to Muggle-borns, though?” Draco asked, sincerely interested. “You grew up Muggle and then you came here and had to learn about a different culture on your own when you were only eleven.”

“Yeah, but I can always go back home to my parents, or I can live as a Muggle if I chose to, like any Wizard can. But Squibs have no place in the wizarding community.” Granger’s voice was a little thicker. “Did you know there probably are many more Squibs than we know about? Because some pure-bloods _Obliviated_ the kids that didn’t get a Hogwarts letter and abandoned them to their own fate! Eleven-year-old kids having to take care of themselves without any memory of where they came from!”

“That is cruel,” Draco said with a bad feeling in his stomach.

What he had learned from his father was when that happened to someone they knew, they were supposed to pretend it hadn’t. Draco was pretty sure he used to have another friend growing up, but the girl never came to Hogwarts, and Draco barely remembered anything about her other than a vague memory of her being at his eleventh birthday.

Draco wondered what would have happened to him if he had been born without magic. He wanted to believe his mother wouldn’t allow him to be abandoned without his memories in the middle of the street, but he was not completely sure.

“Hogwarts should teach us those things,” he said after a few seconds in silence. “About genetics and Muggle science. Or is that what people learn in Muggle Studies?”

“I’ve been saying this for years!” Granger exclaimed. “Muggle Studies has nothing to do with science, and it should! I did the class back in third year because I thought it would be fascinating to learn about Muggles from the wizarding perspective, but it was a huge waste of time. The curriculum is completely outdated, and even what was accurate had some huge gaps!”

They talked until the sun rose and they both decided they needed some sleep if they wanted to have a useful day in classes.

While he buried his head in his pillow Draco couldn’t stop himself from wondering how Potter and Weasley had spent the whole time sound asleep while Granger talked practically nonstop.

 

* * *

 

In the end, Draco had to admit he was grateful for Granger’s interference with Slughorn. Although Slughorn was not as good as Snape, he had many more influential contacts, and a recommendation letter from him would make a huge difference with any of the research laboratories Draco had applied to.

Draco did his best to earn his recommendation letter, even assisting in some of Slughorn’s classes.

Potter, on the other hand, spent much more time reading comic books and listening to music than studying.

“Don’t you ever study?” Draco asked a week after his all-night conversation with Granger.

They were alone in the room, and while Draco was buried in books and parchment scrolls, Potter had his feet up — one in a yellow sock, the other in fuchsia — and was reading a new comic book about Batman, another orphan who fought crime.

“Only when Hermione forces me.” Potter shrugged without raising his head. “There is no point, you know,” he snorted. “The Ministry already offered me a position in the Auror Department. They didn’t even want me to finish school first.”

“Why are you here then?” Draco asked. He still had trouble keeping his mouth shut, especially when it came to Potter.

“I don’t know,” Potter shook his head, putting the comic book down and looking at Draco. “I guess I wanted to have a normal school year for a change. Hermione was coming anyway, so we decided to come too. McGonagall was happy with it. She said more education never hurt anyone.”

“So, that’s it for you, you are going to be an Auror? How predictable, Potter,” Draco said, rolling his eyes.

He was being ridiculous again. Being an Auror was a perfectly acceptable career, one he would never be able to have, for that matter. But there he was, acting as if Potter’s aspirations were pitiful.

“Yeah, I know,” Potter sighed. “I guess it’s the only thing I’m good at.”

“You— what?” Draco frowned, feeling confused. “Wait, that’s not what you want to do with your life?”

“It was,” Potter murmured. “But I don’t know anymore, you know?”

“Not really,” Draco said.

“Yeah, I guess you wouldn’t,” Potter sighed again. “It’s just tiresome. I already spent my whole life fighting. I don’t feel like doing it anymore.”

“Don’t do it then. You don’t need to be an Auror if you don’t want to.”

“It’s a little more complicated than that,” Potter said, taking a deep breath. “There are people that expect me to be an Auror that I don’t want to disappoint.”

“I see,” Draco said, observing Potter attentively. “You should know that if these people really care for you they’ll want you to be happy and not to force yourself to do something you don’t want.”

Draco knew everything about that. His father wanted him to take care of the Malfoy state, like Lucius did before the war, and his father did before him. But Narcissa wanted Draco to do what made him happy. It was not that his father didn’t care for him, it was that he always thought he knew best. If the war hadn’t happened, Draco would probably have caved to his father’s wishes, but now he was free to do whatever he wanted.

“I guess you are right,” Potter said, staring right into Draco’s eyes.

“What would you like to do with your life?” Draco asked in a quiet voice. For some reason he felt like this moment was important.

“I’m not sure,” Potter said without shifting his eyes. “I enjoyed teaching back in fifth year. I guess I’d be good at that.”

“You should try then,” Draco cleared his throat. “If you change your mind later, I’m sure the Ministry will still want you to join the Aurors.”

“I—yeah, I’ll find out how to do it.” Potter licked his lips, and Draco couldn’t stop himself from doing the same. Draco’s head was buzzing a little. He was not sure what was going on.

Potter stood up and took a step towards him. Draco was frozen on the chair, but he was not sure he wanted to move even if he could. Before anything happened Weasley opened the door and it was like a spell had broken. Potter sat back down, and Draco looked away.

 _What was that?_ Draco asked himself, staring at his book without seeing it. For a second it had felt like something was going to happen. And Draco had no idea what it meant. He tried to concentrate on his studies, but it was like reading gibberish. Nothing made sense. Draco felt like his brain had left to take a walk.

 

* * *

 

It was hot, really hot, everything was on fire.

Draco could hear Potter’s voice far away, coming from the other side of the flames. But he couldn’t do anything, he couldn’t move towards Potter, he had to save Greg from the fire. A snake made of fire tried to bite Greg’s ankle. Draco tried to drag Greg away, but he kept escaping Draco’s grip. The door had to be there, they had to escape the heat.

Draco turned. There wasn’t a door or a way to get away from the fire. The flames were about to catch him; Draco was surrounded.

“You have to wake up now, Malfoy,” Draco heard Potter’s voice again through the flames, but he couldn’t do anything.

“Draco, wake up!”

Strong hands caught his arm. He tried to get away from them, but he had nowhere to go, there was fire everywhere. Draco jerked his arm away from his captor, and hit something cold.

That didn’t make sense, he opened his eyes.

There was no fire. Draco was in his dorm room. Potter was there, crouched beside his bed, frowning, his hand still stretched out to where Draco knew his arm had been a second earlier.

“You were calling my name,” Potter murmured once Draco started to calm down.

“Fiendfyre,” Draco said as an explanation.

“You are safe now,” Potter said without moving.

“I was trying to save Greg from the fire, then I heard your voice,” Draco swallowed, his throat tight.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Potter asked with a kind smile, taking his hand away slowly. “Sometimes when I have nightmares talking helps.”

Potter was being kind, kinder than Draco deserved, and it was making it difficult for him to think clearly. The still-fresh nightmare wasn’t helping either.

“No, I’d rather not.” Draco sighed. “Can we just talk about anything else?”

“Of course,” Potter nodded and stared at Draco. “I think Hermione is a little jealous. Half of the people in Hogwarts have a crush on Ron now that he has a beard.”

That was good. Talking about frivolous things would distract him from the nightmare and from what he felt as Potter crouched beside his bed in the middle of the night.

“But you are not jealous because you are not in a relationship with them?” Draco asked raising one eyebrow.

“That’s not funny, you know.”

“It is a little.” Draco smiled. He wasn’t supposed to enjoy that. But it was good having someone to keep him company after a bad dream, and Potter was so good at it. “Are you going to stay on the floor?”

“No,” Potter said, standing up and looking around.

Weasley was sleeping soundly. He had taken advantage of Potter’s absence to spread his legs. Potter would have to make Weasley move over if he wanted to go back to bed. “Maybe I can sit on your bed?”

“I— ye— of course,” Draco stuttered. What the bloody hell was wrong with him? He’d never stuttered before.

Potter sat beside Draco on the bed, putting his feet up. His right foot had a black sock with little golden snitches, the left was light blue.

“What’s with the socks?” Draco asked, gesturing to Potter’s feet with his head.

“They remind me of someone,” Potter said, staring at his socks. He seemed to hesitate before adding: “Do you remember a house-elf that used to work for your family several years ago? Back when we were in second year?”

“Oh, Dobby.”

“Yeah,” Potter sighed. “I gather you know what happened back then?” Draco nodded. He remembered his father telling him how Potter had fooled him into freeing Dobby with a sweaty sock. “He liked socks.” Potter shrugged. “He saved our lives back at your house.” Potter kept staring at his feet as if he were lost in his own head.

“I wanted to help you back then,” Draco murmured, also staring at Potter’s socks. “I already knew the Dark Lord couldn’t win the war. I didn’t want him to kill you.”

“You helped,” Potter whispered, turning to look at Draco. “You bought us time to escape. It was the best thing you could do to help.”

Draco supposed it was. There were so many things from his past that he regretted, and many others he was still confused about.

“I wanted to do more, but he would’ve killed my parents.” Draco looked into Potter’s eyes trying to convey things that he didn’t understand yet. But if someone in the world could, it would be Potter.

“I know,” Potter murmured without averting his eyes.

Draco’s heart was racing. He felt like something big was about to happen, and he had no idea how he was supposed to feel, or what he was supposed to do. He cleared his throat and looked away. Potter sighed.

He was confused, but now the moment was over, and it would be best for him to think about something else, at least while Potter was so close.

“What’s with you and the other Slytherins?” Potter asked.

“I’m not sure.” Draco shook his head. “I haven’t talked to any of them since the war.”

“But they are your friends, don’t you miss them?”

“I don’t know,” Draco said, closing his eyes and resting his head on the headboard. “We started to move away from each other back in sixth year. At first I thought I was doing something important,” he snorted, “then I realised how dangerous it all was. I didn’t want them to get hurt, so I pushed them away. Except Vince and Greg, of course; the situation with their parents was the closest to mine.”

Draco wanted to say he wished he had kept Vince and Greg away too. If he had, maybe Vince wouldn’t be dead. But he didn’t want to think about it; he was supposed to keep his head out of his nightmares, not dive into them.

“I wouldn’t have survived without my friends,” Potter’s voice was low and soothing.

“But your relationship with Weasley and Granger is weird.” That’s what Draco needed, to push the conversation away from him. “Don’t you think you are a little too codependent?”

“Yeah, we know. We are trying to readjust now that things are back to normal, but it’s hard.” Draco heard Potter chuckle. “I suppose a normal person would want to get away from the only people they saw for months, but sometimes it feels like they are the only ones that know who I really am.”

”What’s there to know?” Draco laughed. “You are annoying, messy, petulant, and wear mismatched socks. It’s not that hard.”

“I wish everybody saw me the way you do,” Potter laughed a little.

Draco was probably going insane, but he could swear he felt Potter’s hand brush his. He thought about taking his hand away, but somehow he couldn’t move it.

Maybe he was still dreaming. That would explain why Potter was on his bed, caressing his hand and talking about his feelings. And it wouldn’t even be something new for him. Draco dreamed with Potter more often than he would dare to admit.

“Everybody acts like I’m some kind of invincible hero or something.” Potter yawned. “It’s like being in a zoo with everybody observing my every move. That’s why I hate being out there.”

“I know the feeling,” Draco sighed. “How did you deal with it during the summer?”

“I didn’t. We spent the whole time either at Ron’s home or at Hermione’s. Her parents were great. It was good to be around people that were not involved with the war. It made us feel normal. I only had to be around other people during your trial.”

Draco frowned. “Only mine?”

“Well, and your parents’ of course.” Potter yawned again.

Draco had no idea what that meant. He had assumed Potter had been at all the trials, but maybe he only went when he had to testify. That made sense.

What didn’t make sense was how Draco’s heart hadn’t stopped racing since Potter sat down beside him. He was hyperaware of Potter’s body pressed beside his and of every move Potter made while breathing. Even though Potter was on top of the covers his leg on Draco’s was enough to make his skin tingle. And Potter’s fingers were still on top of Draco’s. But he couldn’t think about that, or he would drive himself insane.

“I think it’s time we went back to sleep,” Draco murmured, but Potter didn’t move. “Potter, I think you should go back to Weasley’s bed.”

Potter didn’t answer, so Draco opened his eyes. Potter’s eyes were closed. His neck was crooked at an uncomfortable angle, his chest rose and fell rhythmically, and his lips parted slightly. He was asleep, and looking at his face, Draco knew he didn’t have the courage to wake him up.

He didn’t know what to do. He considered leaving Potter on the bed and sleeping on the floor, but it was cold, and Draco was comfortable where he was. He could just sleep with Potter, right?

That was better than waking Potter up, Draco decided.

First, he carefully pushed the duvet from under Potter and put it over themselves — it was too cold to sleep uncovered — then Draco took off his glasses, held Potter’s arm, and murmured: “You can lay down now, Harry.”

Draco bit his lips, feeling weird. Not only was Potter on his bed, but Draco had called him by his first name. He tried to convince himself the only reason was because Potter was asleep and he would respond better to his first name, but Draco was not entirely sure that was the only reason.

It shouldn’t feel so comfortable. Draco shouldn’t feel so good snuggled up close to Potter. No matter what had happened, they were still supposed to be enemies, even if they weren’t, Draco couldn’t be Potter’s friend, much less anything else. It was not right.

 _But why did it feel so good?_ Draco thought when his eyes started to close.

 

* * *

 

When Draco woke up he was so comfortable he didn’t want to open his eyes. There was something warm pressed against his face that he was sure was not his pillow, and little puffs of warm air reached his hair every few moments. Awareness started to reach Draco, and he remembered the night before.

He was not sure if he wanted to open his eyes but this time for an entirely different reason. If he remembered correctly and last night was not a dream, the comfortable thing pressed against his face was Potter, and his reasons to sleep with Potter the night before seemed ill-advised in the light of day.

Draco had no idea what he should do. It was ridiculous. Nothing had happened, it was completely platonic, but still, he was unable to make his heart stop racing. Draco was tempted to stay where he was and pretend he was still asleep.

Potter moved beside him and grabbed Draco’s arm. Draco’s breath hitched, and he heard Weasley chuckling.

“Good morning, Malfoy.” Weasley voice was a little too cheerful for someone who had just awoken to find his best mate in bed with their former enemy.

Draco opened his eyes. Potter was extremely close to him, Draco’s head on his shoulder and their faces inches apart. Potter was still sound asleep. Draco averted his eyes and looked at Weasley, who was standing in the middle of the room.

Weasley looked at Potter pointedly and nodded to Draco, who had no idea what that meant.

“Nothing happened,” Draco mumbled, like an idiot.

“I didn’t say anything,” Weasley snorted and entered the bathroom.

Potter shifted again and opened his eyes slowly. While Potter rubbed his eyes it dawned on Draco that they were still extremely close. Potter yawned and looked at Draco with half-open eyes. Then he smiled, and Draco’s heart stopped.

He looked a little surprised at waking up in Draco’s bed but not upset.

“I think I fell asleep here,” Potter murmured without moving.

“Well, that’s obvious,” Draco said. He wondered if he should have a bigger reaction, if he should pretend he had no idea Potter had slept there until they woke up and was offended by it.

Potter chuckled, “I’m sorry I took half of your bed and disturbed your sleep.”

“It’s fine,” Draco whispered, feeling embarrassed. “I slept fine.”

Draco couldn’t admit that it hadn’t been just fine, it had been the best night of sleep he’d had in months, probably years.

“We should probably get out of bed and go to class,” Draco said after a few more seconds passed and Potter didn’t move.

“Or we could just go back to sleep.” Potter half smiled, but he probably saw the panic on Draco's face, because he added; “I’m kidding, you are right.”

Potter yawned again and got out of bed. Draco was not ready to stand up yet, his body would betray him if he did. It was completely normal for a man his age to wake up like that, Draco thought repeatedly, it had nothing to do with how close Potter was during the night.

He was relieved when Weasley left the bathroom and Potter entered there.

“Oh yeah, there is nothing happening,” Weasley snorted, looking at Draco’s red face.

 

* * *

 

Draco didn’t return to the dorm after classes.

 _It was not like he was avoiding Potter or anything like that, he just needed some fresh air,_ he repeated to himself while he walked outside with his nose almost freezing from the cold weather.

He rubbed his gloved hands together and brought them to his face for warmth, but it wasn’t enough.

Waking up beside Potter had been awkward, even if he didn’t count his body’s reactions — which were perfectly normal, Draco thought intensely. Weasley’s knowing looks and Granger’s kind smiles all day during classes didn’t help Draco feel any better.

At least he could count on Weasley and Granger not telling everybody else, since they would never expose Potter. The rest of the school didn’t need any more reasons to hate Draco after all.

Draco sat on a courtyard and cast a Warming Charm. It could be worse. He had magic to keep warm, and no one was crazy enough to walk outside in the cold. He took a book from his bag and started to study.

“Look who is not under the saviour’s robes on this fine day.” Blaise’s deep voice came from behind Draco. Draco turned around. Blaise was not alone: Pansy and Greg were there too.

Pansy had her arms crossed and her lips pursed. Greg looked down, like he was avoiding making eye contact with Draco, and Blaise stood between the two of them, in the place that used to be Draco’s, with his hands in his pockets.

This was too much for Draco to deal with. It was bad enough that he had to deal with his own problems and conflicting thoughts over Potter.

“What are you talking about, Blaise?” Draco sighed.

“You think we didn’t notice you’re always locked with Potter, Weasley, and Granger inside your dorm room?” Blaise snorted.

“What is it Draco? We don’t serve a purpose anymore? You only want to be around people that can recover your family’s old social status?” Pansy asked.

“Well Pansy, he obviously forgot the meaning of friendship.” Blaise stated, raising one eyebrow.

It was obvious that he wanted to incite Draco into a fight. Draco had done the same so many times to Potter that Blaise’s intentions were pathetically clear. The smart thing to do was to keep quiet and walk away.

“You wouldn’t know what friendship looks like even if it bit you on the arse.” Draco smirked. He had known he shouldn’t say anything, and yet there he was.

“We’ve always been your friends! You are the one avoiding us like we were cursed!” Pansy said through her teeth, like she did whenever she was trying to hide her feelings. Draco knew her too well.

“I’ve been avoiding you?” Draco sneered. “What do you call what you did to me last year, Pansy? I tried talking to the two of you, and you acted like there was nothing out of the ordinary! You ignored me!”

“Oh, poor Draco, ignored when everyone was afraid to die!” Pansy started to raise her voice, uncrossing her arms. “What’s your excuse for not talking to Greg then? He never ignored you. He followed you around until you almost got him killed!”

“Shut up, Pansy, you don't know what happened there,” Greg grunted, while at the same time Draco said:

“Greg is better off away from me!”

“Draco that’s not—” Greg started, but Draco interrupted him.

“Being my friend only screwed with your life. Trust me, you should be happy to be away from me.”

“That’s not true,” Greg said, forcefully. “You protected me!”

“Merlin, Greg! I didn’t! I used you for protection my whole life, and I almost got you killed! Pansy and Blaise are right, I’m not a good friend!”

“Vince is the one that almost killed us! He cast Fiendfyre. It’s not your fault! You pushed me away from the fire. I heard Potter talk at your trial, you didn’t let go of me when he was saving you!” Greg was turning red, which Draco knew always happened when he was upset.

“Of course I didn’t! You are my friend, I didn’t want you to die!” Draco burst out.

Draco was starting to believe he had a serious self-control problem. That was not what he had intended to say.

“Being away from me is best for all of you,” Draco said through his teeth. “I’m a Death Eater, and you don’t need to be associated with that image.”

“Don’t be stupid, Draco!” Pansy groaned while Blaise looked at him attentively. “Our image is already fucked up! Greg’s father is in Azkaban with my father. I tried to sell their almighty saviour to the Dark Lord! The only one who doesn’t have a screwed up image is Blaise!”

Of course she was right. She and Greg had almost as much chance to recover their social statuses as Draco. The fact that he wasn’t even trying didn’t make much difference. Still, there were more things wrong with their friendship than that.

“You avoided me last year,” Draco stated.

“I told you, Draco, I was scared!” Pansy sighed deeply. “At first I thought things were going to be great, that we would finally have the position we deserved. But things got scary, I never— I don’t know, it was just too bad! And you were right in the middle of it. I was afraid to end up as collateral damage. Of course later I fucked up things all by myself.” She rolled her eyes.

They exchanged a look, and Draco nodded.

“You should come live in my dorm,” Blaise said, to which both Pansy and Greg nodded their agreement. “Finch-Fletchley moved in with McMillan when Thomas moved to Finnigan’s room, so I’m on my own.”

“I’d rather stay where I am,” Draco said. He wasn’t even sure why.

“Oh, so you _are_ trying to take advantage of your room to cozy up to them.” Blaise nodded, as if now he were capable of respecting that decision.

“I’m not cozying up to anyone, I’d just rather stay there. It’s a good room.” And he felt normal when he was there, Draco added inside his head.

“Whatever.” Blaise shrugged. “The offer still stands if you change your mind.”

They talked for a little while more. It was good. Draco felt more like himself with them. Pansy did her best to get him up to date with the gossip, and Greg looked happy to talk to Draco again. Even though they still had some tension between them, Draco felt close to normal, but not as good as he felt when he was with Potter and Potter acted as if they were friends or something else.

By dinner time Draco had to admit that he had been avoiding Potter. Also that he had liked to sleep with Potter way too much. And finally that he was screwed.

 

* * *

 

Draco thanked his luck when he got back to the dorm after dinner and no one was there. He was not sure how to act around Potter now that Draco was starting to understand his feelings. Thinking back he could recognize the signs: why else had he been so upset when Potter slept with Weasley for the first time?

He sat on his chair with the book he was supposed to be reading but didn’t open it. Potter touched him and smiled at him as if it were completely normal. Draco felt like he was going insane. Everything so far had been fairly platonic, but it was like the world would explode with the smallest misstep, and Draco was always misstepping.

But he couldn’t do that! He shouldn’t think like that! Potter might not like it, but he was everybody’s hero, while Draco was everybody’s villain. He didn’t need anymore disapproval than he already had.

The door opened and Draco prayed it wouldn’t be Potter. This time his luck was not that good.

“Oh, you are here!” Potter exclaimed, sounding surprised.

“This is my dorm room, Potter, where else would I be?” Draco said sarcastically.

“You were not here the whole day, I thought—” Potter hesitated. “Nevermind. You were right, you know?”

“That's hardly news. You’ll need to be more specific,” Draco said, raising his eyebrow.

“The people who really care about me were not upset that I don’t want to be an Auror anymore. I talked to McGonagall, and she is going to help me study to be a professor.”

“Good for you, finally doing what you want.” Draco sneered.

He knew he was acting out, but he had lost control of his mouth long ago. The only thing that mattered now was keeping Potter from knowing the truth.

Potter looked into Draco’s eyes with his eyebrows raised before he said: “Yeah, I won’t stop doing what I want from now on.”

Draco averted his eyes. He couldn’t keep himself from blushing when Potter looked at him like that. It was too much. Draco had to think about something else, anything else.

“Where are Granger and Weasley?” Draco asked.

“Library. Hermione is freaking out over N.E.W.Ts already.” Potter sat on Draco’s bed, putting his feet up and making Draco feel out of breath. “Where were you all day?”

Draco hesitated, not sure if he wanted to talk about that with Potter, before saying, “I was with Pansy, Greg and Blaise.”

“Oh, and how did that go?” Potter asked, frowning a little and looking slightly concerned.

“Better than I expected, I guess,” Draco sighed, turning away from Potter. “They said they thought I was ditching them because they were not good for my image.” Draco rolled his eyes.

“That’s awful. They are your friends, they must’ve know you only kept away from them to protect them.”

“Except they know me very well, and that’s precisely what I would do in this situation,” Draco chuckled darkly. “I wouldn’t spare them a second thought if I thought getting away from them would help me in any way. So they are absolutely right about me.”

Potter was silent. Draco was happy he had his back to Potter. He didn’t think he could stand seeing Potter remember how much of a horrible person Draco really was.

“But you changed,” Potter murmured. “I know you are not like that anymore, and you haven’t been for a while now.”

Draco sighed. Of course Potter would think that. Draco had been stupid for being so vulnerable in front of him.

“So they are wrong,” Potter continued, a little louder. “You are not avoiding them to improve your image because that’s not you anymore. You are someone who chops off your hair in the middle of the night and brews a good potion for a former enemy when you could prank him instead, and has meaningful conversations with Hermione while you should be asleep. You changed.”

Potter’s voice was hopeful and made Draco feel warm inside. His resolution to avoid his feelings was going down on flames.

“You can’t say things like that,” Draco whispered, more to himself than to Potter.

“But it’s the truth, innit?”

Draco closed his eyes forcefully. There wouldn’t ever be a world where his feelings were not out of place and ridiculous. He couldn’t allow himself to hope; he had to cut it down now, before anything happened.

“I like to believe so, but I’m a Death Eater. That won’t ever change, and you shouldn’t forget that.” Draco eyes burned.

“You are wrong.” Potter’s voice was thick. “You were a Death Eater, that’s in the past. You did bad things, but you know more than anybody else in the world that everybody did bad things during the war. What’s important is that you regret your actions, and you deserve to put this behind you. Being a Death Eater when you were sixteen does not define the rest of your life.”

“People don’t think like that, Potter.” Draco’s throat was tight. “The rest of the world will always see me as a Death Eater, so it does define the rest of my life.”

“I couldn’t care less for what the rest of the world thinks,” Potter said resolutely, making Draco open his eyes and look at him.

Potter was closer than Draco had thought. Potter’s legs were in the space between Draco’s bed and the chair where Draco sat. He was staring into Draco’s eyes intensely.

Draco nodded, because there was nothing else he could do when Potter looked at him like that. He was sure Potter could hear his heart, since that was all Draco could hear.

Potter rested his hand on Draco’s arm, and Draco didn't react.

“I thought you were avoiding me,” Potter murmured, making Draco’s insides turn.

“I was,” Draco whispered. He didn’t think he could speak any louder.

“I really think you are doing your best to be a better person, Draco.” Potter squeezed his arm lightly.

Draco felt like everything was spinning around him, and the only solid things in the world were him and Potter. He barely registered that Potter had called him by his given name. It didn’t seem important when Potter was that close to him. Draco’s impulse was to close the distance between them, but the small part of his brain that was still coherent kept him in place.

Then Potter closed his eyes and leaned forward. Their lips touched and Draco couldn’t think anymore. His brain had melted, and all that mattered was how Potter’s lips felt on his.

Draco had no idea how long they kissed, but when he opened his eyes Potter was smiling and Draco felt like smiling too. He sighed. Everything inside him was warm and comfortable, and he had never felt so good before. Potter’s hand caressed his thigh. Draco did not know when that had happened, and he didn’t care. It was pure bliss.

He looked at Potter again. What the hell was he doing? He had just kissed Potter, and that was ridiculous and wrong. That was not his place! He was the trash of the wizarding world, while Potter was the perfect hero. Draco was not supposed to do that, he was not supposed to fall in —

Draco couldn’t complete that thought. It was wrong, and he couldn’t pretend it wasn’t.

“What— What the hell are you doing, Potter!” Draco was having trouble breathing. He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t be here. “You can’t— You can’t do that! This is wrong! You can’t go around kissing people!”

“I’m sorry, I thought you wanted—” Potter looked shocked, but Draco couldn’t focus on that.

“Don’t!” Draco yelled, raising his hands and jumping out of the chair. “I don’t— I don’t want—” His breath hitched. He had to get away from Potter right now. “Don’t come anywhere near me ever again!” He ran away from the dorm.

It was freezing cold outside, but Draco didn’t care. He had to put as much of a distance between him and Potter as possible, or he wouldn’t be strong enough to resist his own feelings.

His body complained, but he was resolute. The only thing he was good at was dragging people to the mud, and he couldn’t do that to Potter.

Draco had reached the lake when he finally stopped walking. The surface was frozen, and he was sure no one with a sound mind would leave the castle in this weather. He sat on the ground with no care for the frost, and let himself feel the pain in his lungs.

His head spun, and nothing made sense. That was not supposed to happen. Potter was not supposed to feel anything for him, much less kiss him like that. They weren’t even supposed to be friends.

As Draco’s robes grew wet it hit him: it was all his fault. He was the same old selfish prat. He had always known he didn’t deserve Potter’s friendship, and he still indulged in it because it made him feel good. If he had really changed he would never let everything go so far.

He didn’t deserve any of the good he had in his life. Draco was supposed to be in Azkaban with his father, because Draco was just like him — a Death Eater who had put everybody he loved in danger and hurt anyone who got too close. He had to be alone. He was supposed to be alone.

Draco trembled, and his eyes burned from the cold. He cast a Warming Charm so he wouldn’t end up sick, but it was weak and pathetic, just like him, and wore off too fast.

Someday he would find a wife and have a child to fulfill his duty to his family, but he wouldn’t fall in love. He could never allow himself to fall in love.

Sometime after midnight Draco’s mind was clearer and he finally stood  and walked back to the castle. He was going to accept Blaise’s offer and move to his room. Draco had to keep himself away from Potter, for Potter’s own good.

The common room was silent when Draco got there, and there was no sound coming from his dorm when he hesitated at the door. He would do everything quickly, go in, pick up some clothes, and go to Blaise’s room. He couldn’t allow himself to linger.

Draco opened the door dreading what would happen if Potter decided to confront him. He didn’t think he was strong enough to keep his head straight.

But the room was empty. Weasley was not snoring on his bed, no one was laughing, there was no music coming from the Muggle music player. Draco was completely alone. The place where he felt he belonged looked as cold, sad, and lonely as the rest of the world.

Draco trembled and dragged himself to his bed. He deserved that, he told himself repeatedly. He didn’t deserve anything better than a lonely, cold room. His eyes burned, but this time he could admit it was not from the cold.

 

* * *

 

The next morning was too quiet. Draco had barely slept. In the light of the day the little things missing from the room were more obvious. The Muggle music player was gone, just like most of Granger’s books, the pile of comic books Potter kept on the bedside table, and Weasley’s chess board that used to be on his desk.

That’s when it dawned on Draco. It was not just Potter who he had to leave behind, he wouldn’t be able to be friends with Weasley and Granger anymore either, just when he was starting to actually like them.

Draco took a shower with no one banging on the door and complaining that he was taking too long and went to have breakfast at the Great Hall.

Potter, Weasley, and Granger were not there, but Draco hadn’t expected them to be. He didn’t want to see Potter, or at least that was what he kept telling himself.

He was forcing down some oatmeal when he heard Susan Bones gossiping about Potter:

“Didn’t you hear? Harry, Ron, and Hermione kicked Zach out of the room last night,” Bones said in a loud whisper.

“Would you blame them, though? Smith was telling everybody he was Potter’s roommate to take advantage of the social status!” Padma Patil said sounding outraged.

“But where is Smith sleeping now?” Parvati Patil asked.

“I heard he slept on the floor of Ernie’s room,” Bones said, still too loud for someone who was supposed to be telling a secret. “I can’t believe there are rooms with three people while some people have a room all for themselves.”

Draco was pretty sure she was side-eyeing him, but he didn’t raise his head.

“It’s not like the people who are alone choose that, Susan.” Parvati sighed, annoyed.

“What a mess!” Padma said, cutting off her sister. “I bet McGonagall would be furious if she found out no one is in the right room anymore.”

Draco had never expected Potter to leave the room for good. Draco had thought he would be the one moving out.

The classes passed as a blur. Weasley and Granger were there, both of them pretending not to see Draco, but Potter never showed up.

Going back to the dorm after classes was almost worse than spending the whole day being ostracized by half of the school and ignored by the other half. The room felt eerie and silent without Weasley and Potter discussing Quidditch or Granger humming while she read.

Potter was back in class the next day, not that Draco dared to look at him. Potter didn’t approach Draco or say anything to him, not that Draco expected Potter to, not that Draco had been hoping Potter would.

 

* * *

 

The next couple of weeks felt progressively worse. The quietness of the dorm was driving Draco insane, not that being outside was anything better. He had hardly seen Potter since the ill-fated kiss, and he could barely contain himself whenever they were in close proximity to each other.

Granger and Weasley hadn’t said anything to him either. They didn’t pretend Draco didn’t exist but instead looked at Draco with pitiful eyes, which was even worse.  Draco couldn’t stand it, so he avoided looking at them too.

Draco convinced himself it was best for everybody involved. Potter deserved better than someone like Draco, someone he could be proud of, not someone he would always have to hide away from the world. Draco’s heart always panged when he thought about that, but he couldn’t avoid it.

At least he had his Slytherin friends back, even if their friendship was still fragile. It was better than nothing. Pansy and Greg knew Draco was not okay, but they didn’t demand anything from him, and he didn’t feel like sharing.

All in all, Draco felt worse than he had in a long time.

In a pathetic attempt to break the silence, Draco got into the habit of turning on the wireless Weasley had left behind. But whenever Celestina Warbeck started to screech Draco remembered how Potter was sick of her, and craved for the Muggle music he had become used to.

It was almost a month after the kissing incident — as Draco had decided to name it — when Weasley and Granger appeared in the room again. Draco thought they went there from time to time when Draco was not around, but this was the first time he caught them.

Draco assumed they were there to pick something up and didn’t expect them to talk to him. So he was surprised when Granger sighed and sat down on Weasley’s bed, looking at Draco with sad eyes.

“What is going on, Draco?” she asked, shaking her head slightly. “We thought everything was going so well.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Draco said, averting his eyes, he couldn’t stand the pity.

“You look miserable, and Harry refuses to tell us what the bloody hell happened for him to decide not to come here anymore,” Weasley said. “We didn’t want to pry—”

“But this is getting ridiculous, and Harry is too stubborn to tell us,” Granger interrupted.

“I assumed you knew,” Draco murmured. “I thought Potter told you everything.”

“Not when he is upset. The only thing we know is that a month ago we got back from the library and Harry told us he was not going to come here anymore.” Weasley shrugged.

“I didn’t know Potter was upset,” Draco said hoarsely.

“Maybe you would have noticed if you ever looked his way,” Granger said, rolling her eyes.

“Believe me, after so many years watching the two of you obsessing over each other, this month was bloody weird,” Weasley said, nodding his agreement.

“Are you going to tell us what happened?” Granger asked kindly.

“You broke up with him or something?” Weasley asked, cutting her off.

“We weren’t—” Draco tried to say, but Weasley interrupted him.

“Don’t even try denying it, we all know there was something going on with the two of you. What’s the problem, you don’t like him back or something?”

Draco couldn’t believe Granger and Weasley were so cool with any of it. How could they not see how wrong it was for Draco and Potter to be anywhere near each other?

“It’s not that, we just— We just kissed! That’s it!” Draco burst out. He had kept that to himself for too long. “We kissed, and then I told him we couldn’t do that, because that’s ridiculous. Look at Potter, he can’t go around kissing people like me!”

Granger and Weasley exchanged a look and then turned to him with their mouths open.

“I really hope this is not a pure-blood freak out,” Granger said, pressing the bridge of her nose with her fingers and shaking her head.

“It has nothing to do with blood,” Draco sighed nervously. “I’m the issue, I’m the one who is not good enough. I won’t ever be! I didn’t want Potter to be upset, but it’s for the best, I can’t taint Potter. We can’t ever be together and—” Draco stopped. He was revealing too much.

Granger’s sighed deeply, looking at him with even more pity on her eyes, and Weasley sat beside her, covering his face with his hands.

“But you like him?” Granger asked.

“Don’t you get it? It doesn’t matter if I like him or not! It just can’t happen! I don’t want him to have to hide forever just because I’m with him,” Draco said, agitated.

“He doesn’t hide because of you! He was already avoiding people long before this happened!” Weasley said through his hands, sounding annoyed.

“It doesn’t matter!” Draco exclaimed, standing up and starting to pace. “He’ll move on from it anyway, it’s not like he is in love with me or something. He’ll find someone good enough for him and forget any of this ever happened!”

“But why? I don’t understand why you are running from it if you feel the same!” Granger said, running her fingers through her hair, frustrated.

“Because it’s ridiculous! Because unlike you I understand the status quo! We can’t be together! All of you keep forgetting that I’m not a fucking good person! Do you need me to go back to insulting all of you so you can understand it? Because I can go back to calling you names in a heartbeat.”

“Yeah?” Granger asked through her teeth. “Because I don’t think you can, Draco, or you would’ve called me Mudblood and ended this conversation already!”

“I’m not changing my mind!” Draco yelled, frustrated because Granger was right. “You wanted to know what happened, that’s what happened, now leave me the fuck alone!”

Granger opened her mouth to say something, but Weasley stood up and put his hand on her shoulder.

“Let’s go, Hermione,” he said, shaking his head. “They are both too stubborn for their own good.”

Granger shook her head too, and they both left. Draco felt lost. If Potter’s best mates thought it was okay for them to like each other, then it couldn’t be as bad as Draco thought, right?

No, he couldn’t let himself think that. It was better this way. Potter could have anyone he wanted, anyone in the world would love him. He would be happier this way, with someone without Draco’s past.

 

* * *

 

The snow outside was melting the next time Draco found himself alone with Potter. Draco was waiting outside Flitwick’s classroom — he was too early — but he’d rather be there than around other people.

Draco didn’t raise his head when he heard steps coming down the hall.  The person leaned against the wall a couple of steps away from Draco, and Draco could see the person’s feet. He knew those trainers, and he knew there would be mismatched socks with them.

Potter didn’t say anything. It was like they were strangers who happened to be in the same hallway. It drove Draco insane. His heart raced, and he had to lock his teeth to keep his mouth shut. They were alone for the first time in months, and it felt nothing like it had before.

Draco raised his head even though he knew that was a huge mistake. They locked eyes; Potter looked as bad as Draco felt. Draco unclenched his teeth to say something, but Potter averted his eyes. Draco’s heart tightened. That didn’t feel right. Being close to Potter and not saying anything felt worse than it had back before the war, when they couldn’t be near each other without fighting. Draco had never been able to control himself when it came to Potter.

“I didn’t want you to be upset, but this is the best for everybody,” Draco murmured.

“What?” Potter turned to him sounding angry. “You didn’t want to see me anymore and I respected it, but you don’t get to say that! You know what, you don’t get to say anything!”

Potter was furious, which in Draco’s book would always be better than the look he had on his face before.

“I really didn’t, okay? You don’t understand!”

“Then explain it to me, Draco! Explain to me why what happened is so wrong! Because for me it looked like you were liking it, and then you started to yell at me!”

Well, that was exactly what had happened. And Draco had no idea how to explain it.

“I liked it, of course I liked it. Can’t you see that’s exactly the problem?” Draco sighed deeply. “You and me, we aren’t even supposed to be friends!”

“Who said that?” Potter asked, raising his arms in frustration. “I thought you were over that!”

“Over what? The fact that I’m a bad person?” Draco grunted, burying his hands in his hair. “I’m not good, Potter, I won’t ever be good! And you are so fucking good all the time!”

Voices were coming from down the hallway, probably the rest of the eighth years coming to class. Draco had already forgotten what they were doing there.

“I shouldn’t have let this happen. I shouldn’t have let myself get close to you! This is wrong, Potter, you should just forget anything happened,” Draco murmured before the voices got too close.

“No, I won’t forget anything,” Potter said through his teeth. “And I won’t stop this conversation either, so unless you want to talk in front of everybody—”

“No!” Draco exclaimed, looking around, feeling a little desperate. “Not in front of other people, please!”

Potter looked hurt, but he caught Draco by the arm and guided him to the other end of the hallway and inside an unused classroom.

“So, that’s it, right? You don’t want people to know anything happened between us,” Potter said, releasing Draco’s arm long enough to put a Silencing Spell on the door and then walking to the other side of the classroom. “Are you embarrassed because I’m a lad or something?”

“That’s not it! I just— I was not supposed to—” Draco couldn’t continue, he couldn’t use that word. “I have to do what is expected of me.”

“You were the one telling me I had to do what I wanted and forget people’s expectations!” Potter grunted, grabbing his hair in obvious frustration.

“You! Not me!” Draco yelled. “People will always see me as a criminal that should be locked in Azkaban! If anyone knew they would think I did something to you, that I forced you into it!”

“I don’t care what people think! I never did and I won’t start now!” Potter yelled back.

“You are impossible! I’m a Death Eater, Potter, how come you already forgot it?”

“Believe me, I didn’t! You were a Death Eater. That’s in the past, and I don’t want the past to define us forever! We talked about it, I already told you what I think.”

“It would never work!”

“Just because you refuse to let yourself have something good in your life.” Potter sighed and threw himself on a chair. “Why are you doing this to us? I don’t understand it!” he said, rubbing his face.

“I was not supposed to— to feel like I feel,” Draco said hesitantly. “I was supposed to come back to school and try to work on my family’s reputation and to improve our social status, people would think that’s what this is, me trying to take advantage of you.”

“So that’s it?” Potter asked, raising his head to look at Draco. “You are going to let the rest of the world dictate what you can and can’t do?”

Draco turned his back to Potter. Looking into those green eyes hurt too much, and he had to be strong for Potter’s own good.

“You are so stubborn!” Potter grunted, and Draco heard the chair scratching the floor. “If that’s what you want, I’ll respect it, but don’t talk to me again, I can’t— I just can’t.”

Potter walked towards the door, and Draco felt like crying. Everything inside him hurt. He had to let Potter go, and it had to be forever.

 _What the hell was he doing?_ Draco thought through his watery exhales. For all he felt he had changed, there he was, acting like an idiot again. It was ridiculous. After everything he still believed what he was raised to believe. Draco still believed he had to do what he was supposed to do instead of what mattered to him.

“I’m sorry,” Draco murmured before Potter could walk away. This was the first time Draco had said that and meant it. “When I realised I was in love with you I panicked. It’s hard for me to believe any of this happened, to believe this can be real, that we can be real. I feel like I don’t deserve this, that I don’t deserve you.”

“But you do, Draco,” Potter whispered, and Draco heard him coming closer. “You deserve everything you want. You changed, we all did.”

“Don’t go,” Draco sobbed, turning to look at Potter. “Please, don’t leave me alone.”

“I won’t.” Potter reached for Draco’s hand and squeezed it.

 

* * *

 

“I can’t believe it’s over,” Hermione sighed, sitting under a tree by the lake.

Three months had passed since Draco and Harry had decided to try being together. It hadn’t been easy for Draco. Sometimes everything still felt a bit unreal, especially at times like these when they were outside the dorm. But Draco was happy, and that’s what mattered.

They had just finished their last N.E.W.T. and would be leaving Hogwarts for good soon. All the rest of the eighth years were scattered on the grounds, trying to enjoy their last weeks in this place.

Not much had changed when it came to students’ opinions of Harry and Draco. Some, like Smith and Bones, still looked at Draco like he was disgusting. Others — mostly Gryffindors — were making an effort to get to know Draco and didn’t judge him for being with Harry, and that was good enough.

“The name is right, those were nasty,” Hermione shuddered.

“What are you even talking about, Hermione.” Ron snorted, lying down with his head on her lap. “I bet you’ll get all Os.”

She smiled. “Just because I made an effort instead of spending my days reading comic books and playing chess.”

“I’ll have you know that I studied a lot these past few months.” Harry said from where he sat beside them holding Draco’s hand. “You can ask Draco if you don’t believe me.”

“Oh, yeah.” Draco rolled his eyes. “Studied a lot whenever I said no to playing Quidditch, or Exploding Snap, or chess —”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Harry laughed and covered Draco’s mouth with his hand. “So I wanted to have some fun in our last months here, you can’t blame me!”

“You are lucky you only need a good grade on DADA and Charms,” Hermione said, shaking her head fondly. “If you still wanted to be an Auror you’d have to actually make an effort with Potions.”

“Oh, that’s why you changed your mind!” Ron chuckled. “I knew that whole being ‘tired’ was all a ruse! You were just running away from Potions!”

“Of course I was. It took you long enough to realise!” Harry laughed.

“Did you hear anything from the fellowship?” Hermione asked Draco when they stopped laughing.

“It all depends on my N.E.W.Ts. I need an O in Potions and at least an E in everything else,” Draco said.

“I’m sure you’ll get it,” Harry said, smiling and squeezing Draco’s hand.

“I refused the offer to work at the DMLE and applied for an internship at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures,” Hermione told them, looking a little apprehensive. “I just hope I did the right thing. I probably should have waited to refuse the job until I found out if I got the internship.”

“No one is refusing you,” Ron said, with a dismissive hand wave. “You are all set to fight for the house-elves, and werewolves, and anything else you want to fight for.”

Hermione smiled and kissed Ron’s forehead.

It was good, thinking about a future full of opportunities and possibilities. A future where Draco’s past could fade away and where he could be whomever he wanted.

A shadow hid the sun, making Draco and the others look up. Pansy, Blaise, and Greg stood there, looking a little lost.

When Draco first went public with his relationship to Harry his Slytherin friends had reverted to avoiding Draco. But after they talked a couple of times, and Draco explained everything, they agreed to give the trio a chance.

“Hi,” Pansy said, looking cautious.

“Hey, sit with us!” Harry said, shooting a big smile at Draco’s friends. He knew how much it meant for Draco to be back on good terms with them.

“I wanted to apologise first,” Pansy said, taking a deep breath. “I shouldn’t have —”

“Nevermind that,” Harry said, shaking his head, still smiling. “That’s all in the past. Let’s just start over and get to know each other from now on.”

And that was enough. Pansy, Greg, and Blaise sat with them. They all talked, laughed, and found things they agreed on.

Harry smiled at Draco and pulled him a little closer.

Draco didn’t know how things would go after they left school. He didn’t know how the rest of the world would react to him dating Potter. But he didn't care, as long as he didn’t have to go through it alone.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [Tumblr](https://must-love-drarry.tumblr.com/)


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